Page 175 of Then We Became
“Don’t waste your life on guilt, man.Be happy.Be free.”His voice cracks on the last word.“You’re gonna have to live for both of us now.”
I shake my head, a quiet, useless denial.
“Tell Mom I love her.”He hesitates, then adds, “And Nate…”
The pause stretches.My heart stutters.
Then he smiles—small and familiar, the kind he always gave me when things were about to be okay, even when they weren’t.
“I love you too,” he says gently.“I always did.”
The screen goes black.
I don’t move.
I just sit there, the phone dead weight in my hands, my fingers numb around its edges.The silence that follows isn’t empty—it presses in, thick and breathing, like it’s waiting to see what I’ll do now that he’s gone.
The folder holds what Jake promised—evidence that ties our father to everything.
Financial documents, photos, even a police report that proves Nora’s “accident” wasn’t an accident at all.Jake had been methodical about everything.
And at the bottom, a letter.
I know you’ll try to blame yourself.Please don’t.I know how your mind works—you’ll spiral, shut people out, numb yourself until nothing gets through.That’s why I asked Adrian to wait.Not until you said you were better, but until you actually were.Until you weren’t just surviving, but living again.
Take the time you need and do whatever you have to, to get back to the old Nate, the brother I remember you were.Because Nate, the world is better with you in it—even if you can’t see that yet.
— Jake
I fold the letter carefully, smoothing the creases like it’s something sacred.Jake had seen everything and he’d known what Scott was.
Known what I’d become and still he believed in me.
Enough to make a plan that would outlive him.
Enough to give me a reason to live again.
I lie back on my bed, the folder on my chest, the phone still warm in my hand.The ceiling above me is the same dull white it’s been for months but tonight, the specks look like stars.
Jake always loved constellations.
That’s why I learned them—whatever I could, however I could.So when we were kids and he dragged me outside, pointing up with that excited, reckless grin and asking me to name them, I could.
Orion.Cassiopeia.Perseus.
Nora once told me that stars are proof that even in the darkest sky, something is always burning bright enough to guide you home.I think now maybe she wasn’t talking about the sky at all.
Maybe she was talking about moments like this.
In four weeks, I’ll walk out of Haven Ridge clean, clear-headed, and carrying my brother’s legacy.The evidence he gathered will put Scott away for good.
I touch the folded letter one last time, whispering the words I never got to say.
“You’ll always be my little brother, Jake.Always.”
Outside, the mountains are painted in silver light.
The world is still broken but for the first time in years, I’m not.
Some wounds never close.
But maybe they’re not meant to—maybe they’re reminders of what’s worth fighting for.
To be continued…
